


Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Bloody-Boo

by ritaskeetered



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cinderella Fusion, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, F/M, Male Cinderella
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 03:36:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14487981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ritaskeetered/pseuds/ritaskeetered
Summary: A young man in rags, a princess waiting to be swept off her feet and a fairy godbrother who hates everything about his family. (A Jily Cinderella AU, written for Tumblr's Jily Challenge!)





	Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Bloody-Boo

**Author's Note:**

> My prompt for this month’s Disney Jily Challenge: "james is always covered in cinders from sweeping the fire and working for his step parents, he manages to clean up and go to the princess' ball but 'woops there goes my shoe oh god i'm screwed'”. I’ve interpreted it loosely, but it is most definitely a Cinderella AU! Enjoy! (I hope…!)

His hands were wet, his knees sore and his knuckles an angry red as he violently moved the brush across the hardwood floors he was kneeling on. His arms ached, his shoulders burned and his back felt as though he had slept on the floor for the past few weeks, which – in all honesty – was not all that surprising as he had been sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs of Grimmauld Place for the past year. 

Yet, his protesting body was a relief to him. It meant that he was still alive, that there was still some fight left in him and that he had not yet resigned himself to his fate, even though sometimes he believed he had. 

Cleaning now, thus, gave him a sense of satisfaction. It showed him that – underneath all the grime and sweat – he was still the same; he was still himself. 

If you had told James about all of this a year ago, he would have declared you utterly mad. However, in the past year – since he had lost his parents and was robbed off his ancestral home – he had found a strange comfort in scrubbing the hardwood floors of the Black household. Perhaps also, because it provided him the best opportunity to eavesdrop on any conversation that was had in the tea room. A room which the Blacks seemed to favour when it came to discussing the more serious matters in life.  

"A ball," said Lord Black, he sounded terribly bored, "and why should we care about anything this  _usurper_  arranges?" 

James felt the urge to roll his eyes at the mention of the king's nickname in so-called pureblooded, Slytherin households. It had been – give or take – five hundred years since the Gryffindor King Rupert had defeated his Slytherin cousin King Thomas in battle. His offspring could hardly be blamed for the shedding of even a drop of pure Slytherin blood. There had been close to thirty – or  perhaps even over thirty – different Kings – who had married Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs – in between the Battle of Hogwarts and now. The Slytherins, however, had made it clear that they would never bend the knee or accept the rule of a Mudblood. 

"Because," Lady Black answered her husband, "a female heir cannot ascend the throne without a proper husband at her side."  

"And you wish for our son to marry a Mudblood princess?" Lord Black's voice shook in anger. "Have you gone mad,  _wife_?"  

In any other household, a demanding husband such as Lord Black would surely have struck out at his wife. However, Lady Black was far more intimidating, cruel and violent than her husband could ever hope to be. 

“Is it wise, my dear husband, to question my sanity?” 

Her voice was calm, cold and collected. James could just imagine Lord Black cowering in his chair, while their son – Regulus – would sit in the windowsill, nose buried in a book and utterly bored by his parents’ antics. 

“Why,” Lord Black began, “of course not, my love.” His words were rushed, nervous, frantic. “You must forgive my impertinence.” 

“I thought so.” 

Lady Black had stood up, her heels clacking ominously against the floor. 

“You see,” Lady Black started, “we have been waiting quietly for our chance to pop up for centuries now. I think it’s time we showed the king exactly how powerful House Slytherin is.” 

James frowned at that and found that he had stopped scrubbing the floors. 

“And what does our son have to do with all of this?” 

He couldn’t see Lady Black, but her voice told him everything he needed to know and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. 

“Why,” she said, “we didn’t raise our son to kill for nothing, did we?”

* * *

“They want to murder the king and his family!” James paced the floor of the kitchen where Remus Lupin – the cook – stirred the soup he was preparing for the Black’s family dinner. “We have to do something!” 

Remus grimaced. “Agreed,” he said, “but what would you have us do?” 

James placed his hands on the table. “We could temper with the food.” 

His only friend in the household paled. “I can’t,” he said, “Lady Black is quite proficient when it comes to poison, you know that!” 

James frowned, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He knew far too well what the effects of Lady Black’s potions were. He had  seen the evidence first-hand when his parents had mysteriously fallen ill after Lady Black had invited them over for dinner. His father had died first, his mother following only three hours later, covered in boils and choking to death. 

He shook his head, willing the memory, the immense trauma to go away. That was not how he wanted to remember his loving parents. 

He looked up at his friend, a look of determination in his eyes. “Then we must warn the king.” 

Remus raised one eyebrow at him. “How would you propose we do that?” he asked. “For all they know you’re just a lowly servant.” 

“Servants know a lot about what goes on behind closed doors,” he argued in turn. “They will listen and know that my words ring true.” 

Remus let out a heavy sigh. “James,” he began, “you know that Lady Black will twist your words. She’ll use the past years against you, proclaim you mad and she will most certainly deny having anything to do with your parents’ death.” 

“And why would the king believe her?” 

“Why would the king believe you?” 

His frustration and anger grew by the second and – without another word – he stormed out of the kitchen. 

The fresh spring air that hit him was more than welcome and, for a few minutes, he just stood there, breathing in the scent of the blossoming apple trees. The smell was sweet, too good almost and too innocent to believe that Lady Black used the apples of these very trees to plot and kill. This ignited his anger even further and he found himself marching towards the gate leading to the outside world. He would deal with Lady Black’s anger at his having escaped before he had finished all of his chores later that day. Perhaps he could come up with an excuse, claiming to have gone to town to get Remus a missing ingredient for that evening’s dinner. 

He found himself taking the road to town, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders hunched. He was lost in his thoughts. So much so that he didn’t notice the girl sitting by the side of the road until he very nearly tripped over her legs. Startled, he looked up to find a pair of bright green eyes stare back at him. 

“My apologies, my lady,” he said, bowing his head lightly. 

The girl – or really, the young woman – wore a light blue gown, clearly indicating she was not a mere servant or kitchen wench. She had started to frown slightly at his words. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, my lord,” she replied. 

He raised an eyebrow at that. “I’m clearly not a lord, my lady.” 

She sighed. “I would like to say that I’m not a lady, but I fear my gown has betrayed me.” 

“Slightly,” he said. 

The young woman was remarkably beautiful. He had noticed that upon first glance. Just as he had noticed that she was most definitely out of his league. Once upon a time, when his parents had still been alive and he had been set to inherit Godric’s Hollow, things would have been different. Now, however, she was the sun and he was a mere flee on a dog’s scruffy bottom. 

“I have no chance of blending in, right?” she asked him. 

“Depends on where you want to go,” he told her and he found himself sitting down next to her. He didn’t really know why, but he felt she might need it. 

She let out a strangled sounding laugh. “Anywhere but back to the palace!” His heart skipped a beat, but the girl next to him continued. “I am so sick of spending my days locked away behind palace walls.” She then turned her head and smiled sadly at him. “I’m sorry,” she told him, “I’m aware that I sound like a brat at the moment. I’ve been told before.” 

Her green eyes were enchanting. He swallowed hard, trying to get something clever out of his mouth. “No,” he told her, “most definitely not a brat. I –” he had to look away from her or her brilliance would blind him, “… I think I know how you feel.” 

She smiled wistfully. “Now I feel bad.”

“Why?” he asked. “Because I’m poor and your life can’t possibly as bad as mine.” 

“Honestly?” she replied. “Yes?” Then, pushing a loose strand of auburn hair away from her face. “Is that an awful thing to say?” 

“I won’t take offence,” he told her, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “I know I look pretty pathetic in all of this.” He gestured to himself and rejoiced when she smiled blindingly. 

“I wouldn’t say pathetic,” she told him. “You clean up rather nicely for someone in what I’m sure my mother would consider to be rags.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he told her, sitting back. The grass tickled his fingers, the sun shone down on him and he was sitting next to one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen; to say that he was feeling good would be an understatement. 

“So,” he began, not wanting the conversation to end just yet, “what is it that troubles a pretty palace girl like you?” 

She let out a sigh. “You see,” she said, “I think I’m perhaps the pathetic one out of the two of us. Complaining over what exactly? Not getting to leave the palace ever? Feeling as though I might die of boredom or suffocation?” 

He observed her, she was wringing her hands and her eyes avoided his. Then: “You seem to have gotten out just fine this time.” 

She let out a laugh, but it sounded bitter. “I bet about a hundred soldiers will show up soon enough to drag me back, kicking and screaming.” 

“A _hundred_ soldiers?” he asked, suddenly a bit apprehensive, but she didn’t seem to hear him. 

“I just hate it in there, you know,” she told him, “and now… with that stupid ball coming up and all those suitors who talk of love but don’t know a thing about me…” 

At that moment, his heart started to sing, to soar, because – while it had taken him an awful long while and he normally prided himself on being terribly perceptive – he was now sitting next to the princess; or one of them at least. 

“That does sound rather awful,” he told her. She sent him an incredulous look and he held up his hands, claiming his innocence. “It _does_!” And then, a grin sneaking up his face: “I bet half of those guys claiming to be the love of your life are overweight and have moustaches.” 

She blinked at him for a moment before bursting out in laughter. Tears started to roll down her cheeks as she doubled over, her red hair shielding her face from his. He couldn’t fight the smile on his face and knew that he probably looked terribly smug – he felt like some comedic genius – when she stared up at him again. 

“You don’t even want to know,” she started, wiping a few tears from her cheeks, “exactly how accurate that is.” 

He wrinkled his nose in distaste. “I _am_ sorry to hear that I’m right.” 

She shrugged. “No worries,” she told him, “those kind of guys seem to be exactly my sister’s type, so she can have her pick.” 

“And what if _you_ can’t find anyone you like?” he asked her. 

She looked away from him. “No worries,” she told him, “my parents will gladly choose someone for me. I will be married off to a total stranger in a matter of weeks.” 

His stomach fell. “That’s absurd!” he told her. 

She smiled sadly. “It’s a princess’ duty.” 

“To marry someone you don’t love and who doesn’t love you in return?” He stood, holding out his hand for her to take. “Do you trust me?” 

“What?” she asked, her eyes wide. 

“You can’t live like that,” he told her. “That’s a waste of a life.” 

“I still don’t understand,” she told him, frowning slightly. 

“Let’s run!” he said, excitedly. “No obligations, no fathers to obey, no escaping murderous plots…” 

“ _What_?” 

“Let’s move a million miles away!” 

She gaped at him, her eyes flitting between his hand and his face. “I can’t just…” she swallowed hard. “I just met you and my parents will be so worried…” 

He decided to take matters in his own hands and grabbed her hand himself, pulling her up. “I thought you hated your life.” 

“I do!” she exclaimed. “But I can’t just run…” she paused, looking him in the eye. “However tempting it might sound, I can’t just go and never turn back.” 

He looked at her, feeling stupid for a moment. He had clearly let himself get carried away. 

“Of course,” he said, shaking his head, letting her hand go and looking anywhere but at her face. 

“It’s not that I wouldn’t want to,” she said softly. “Because I would honestly consider your offer if it was an actual option.” She flushed when his eyes found hers again and he smiled at her. 

“I suppose it helps that I’m not obese and don’t have a moustache.” 

“It does make you seem a bit more trustworthy…” 

They grinned at one another and would possibly have stood there for a bit longer, just enjoying each other’s presence. However, five soldiers and a cloaked man on horseback neared them and stopped in front of them. The man wearing the cloak couldn’t have been much older than he himself was, but the expression on his face made him seem much older. 

“Princess,” the man said, “your father demands you return to the palace immediately.” His dark eyes then fell to James and he sneered. “Kneel for your princess, you brainless miscreant!” 

He glared at the man in question, but did get down on his knees, while the princess bristled. 

“ _Sev,_ ” she said and James realised he would not like to be the one she was angry with, “you have no reason to speak to him like that!” 

“He has no right to stand this close to you,” the man – Sev – told her in return. 

“You have no right to tell anyone anything,” she had turned back towards James. “Please get up,” she told him, “you do not have to kneel for me.” 

Torn, he looked up and – after taking one look at her – he stood up again, his eyes never leaving hers and she smiled at him and his heart jumped with joy, but then something hit him on the back of his head and the last thing he could hear before he lost consciousness was the princess’ scream.

* * *

He awoke with a start and – when met by the blinding sun – let out a groan. His head throbbed and he had trouble remembering where he was, why he was lying in the grass, near the side of the road and why he felt as though he had just been attacked by a herd of wolfs. 

“Get up, will you?” a voice then said, sounding utterly bored. There was something familiar about the way he spoke and James turned his head, squinting up at a young man his own age. There was something distinctly elegant about his demeanour and – for a moment – James thought he was staring up at Regulus Black, but this man’s hair reached his shoulders and James was convinced that Lady Black would not allow her son to take on such a scandalous look. 

“Don’t just lie there,” the young man repeated, lifting one of his eyebrows, but not responding otherwise. “I assume you don’t want to die?” 

James scrambled up, biting back the pain in his head as he slowly stood. He was a few inches taller than the man in front of him. 

“Good,” the man said, “I would have hated to have to bury you somewhere in the woods.” 

“How did I end up here?” he asked the man, but – as he asked the question – he remembered. He remembered _her_. Her smile, her face, her eyes, her hair, the way she smelled, the way she had smiled at him and then he remembered how they had been interrupted and how someone – he bet it was that shady, slimy bastard on the horse – had hit him in the back of his head. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his head. 

“That I am,” the man in front of him said. James looked at him, frowning slightly, the man shrugged. “Many would say that my mother is the worst person imaginable, myself included.” He then stuck out his hand. “Sirius Black.” 

James’ eyes widened. “Black?” he asked. 

“My reputation precedes me, as always,” said Sirius, seemingly unaffected. 

“Are you related to the Blacks of Grimmauld Place?” 

“I just told you,” the handsome man replied, “my mother is a bitch. I don’t know many other people who fit that description.” 

He didn’t know exactly what to do or how to process this new information. Perhaps the hit to his head had left some real damage. “I have no clue what’s happening.”

“You seem to be rather slow,” said Sirius Black. 

He glared at the man in front of him. “No offense, but some idiot just hit the back of my head.” 

“Man up, then.” 

As he said this, Sirius Black started to walk away from him, headed towards Grimmauld Place. 

“Wait,” James said, jogging up to the man, “are you headed to Grimmauld Place?” 

The man huffed. “Mummy will be thrilled to see me, no doubt.” 

“I work for your parents,” James said. 

“Brilliant,” Sirius replied, “does mother miss me?” 

James shrugged. “I didn’t know you existed. She never mentioned a second son.” 

“I’m the first, technically,” Sirius informed him. “The rebel son, you could say.” Then he turned sideways: “So, what’s your story? How did you end up my mother’s slave?”

* * *

Grimmauld Place had exploded with the arrival of the prodigal son: Sirius Orion Black. Lady Black had screeched, screamed and thrown several pieces of furniture at her son. Lord Black had left the room, while Regulus Black had looked on disinterestedly before retiring to his room as his father had done. 

James was now left picking up the pieces of the thunderstorm that was Lady Black, while Remus prepared dinner for four. While he was cleaning, James supposed that the good thing to come out of Sirius Black’s arrival had been that Lady Black had retired to her room with a severe headache, making it this much harder for her to plot the murder of the king and his family. 

In the days that followed, he couldn’t stop thinking of the princess. Her eyes haunted him in his sleep and he found himself lying awake at night, picturing her smile. He also found himself wondering how he could save her, how he could make sure that no one – and certainly not Lady Black – could harm her. 

Invitations for the royal ball had arrived and Regulus and Lady Black had spent hours talking to one another in hushed tones. James found himself coming up with ideas to sabotage their plot to kill, but had been left empty-handed. His best plan so far had been to sneak into the palace, but he did not have a clue as to how he could pull such a thing of yet. 

“You could pretend to send me to town to buy groceries or something,” he told Remus. “We have to do something. We can’t just let them get their way.” 

“Why would you go get groceries at night, though?” Remus asked. “The timing would be impossible.” 

The day of the ball arrived and James found himself despairing as he saw Lord and Lady Black and their son leave for the ball. He had to do something. He was going to do something! But any plan that he had – warning the palace guards, sneaking in – was far from fool proof and he knew that he couldn’t live with himself if the princess and her family were to die and he knew he could have stopped it. 

“ _Fuck_!” he found himself screaming. His fist collided with the wall and he sank down on his knees, his head hanging, pitying as well as hating himself. 

He didn’t know how long exactly he sat there like that, but after a while a throat was cleared in front of him and he found himself looking up at Sirius Black. The man had crossed his arms in front of his chest and seemed less than impressed. 

“You look pathetic,” Black said, leaning against the opposite wall now he had James’ attention. “I assume you want to go to the palace and stop my mother’s evil masterplan?” 

James found himself nodding. “It’s bloody impossible, though.” 

“Impossible?” Sirius scoffed. “A real hero, are you?” 

James stood up at that, glaring at the man in front of him. “This is not about me being a hero,” he told the oldest Black son. “This is about trying to save the royal family from harm!” 

“So, why aren’t you?” 

“Because how could I stop them?” 

“You probably have to actually get out of the house if you want to at least have a chance.” 

“And how would you propose I do that?” 

Sirius bared his teeth in what he assumed was meant to be a reassuring grin. “Well, call me your bloody fairy godbrother,” the man informed him, “because without me you’d get nowhere.”

* * *

“Well, bibbidi-bobbidi-bloody-boo,” said Sirius Black as he stopped in front of the gates of Gryffindor Palace, “I got you here, didn’t I?” 

James was dressed in Sirius’ suit and James liked to think he would fit in rather well at the party. Sirius had also handed him the spare invite to the ball and a dagger that James had hidden in his boot. “You never know,” Sirius had told him, “I might get lucky and you might actually kill my mother tonight. If you do, tell her Sirius said goodbye.” 

James turned to thank Sirius, but the man shook his head. “Better get in and save lives,” he told James. “I hope you get the girl too.” 

James had reluctantly told Sirius about the princess he had met only a few hours before he had met Sirius. The eldest Black son had gagged at the idea of romance and had rolled his eyes when James had insisted that it really wasn’t about her, but that he had to save the royal family or he would hate himself for the rest of his life for knowing they were about to be killed and not doing anything about it. 

James took a deep breath, eyeing the palace. “For what it’s worth,” James said, “you’re a good guy.” 

He didn’t wait for Sirius to reply and instead sprinted inside, only stopping to show the guards his invite and then he found himself entering the ballroom. 

He was greeted by an ocean of colour as women were twirled around in their gowns. His eyes immediately searched for the auburn that had invaded his dreams, but she was not on the dance floor. He pushed through the crowd of men and women, his eyes flitting from face to face, hoping to recognise her, to see her eyes again until he did. 

She stood next to her parents, a sad and forlorn look on her face as she stared at the crowd. He found himself rushing towards her and before he truly knew what he was doing, he kneeled down in front of her and he noticed how her eyes widened, recognition evident. 

“Princess,” he said, out of breath, “may I please have this dance?” 

He had no clue what he was doing. He didn’t even know how to dance and he didn’t know if he was supposed to ask her like this, if she would even consider saying yes, but he had no time to loose. He had found her, he could keep her safe now and – hopefully – she could help him save her parents and sister as well. If only he could get her to believe him… 

“Yes,” she said and relief flooded his body, while his heart skipped a beat and he found himself getting to his feet and taking her hands in his. 

Rather than pulling her towards the dance floor, he pulled her towards the balcony and once outside he let go off her. “Princess,” he began, but she cut him off, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she told him and that was when he remembered that the last time they’d seen one another he had been left for dead near the side of the road. “I asked people to find you, but they couldn’t and then I thought…” she swallowed. 

“I’m okay,” he told her and pushed away from her slightly. “But I have to make sure you are too,” he rushed through his words. “There are people inside these palace walls who plan to kill you and your family.”

“What?” she frowned. 

“Please, princess,” he told her, grabbing her shoulders, “you have to listen to me.” 

“It’s Lily,” she told him, her eyes not leaving his. “Please just call me Lily.” 

He swallowed hard, momentarily forgetting what he was here for, why he had needed to be there, but then he shook his head. “Lily,” he said, “listen carefully: Lady Black wants to see you dead. She came here to kill you and your family.” 

“Is that why you have come?” she asked him. 

“I…” he looked at her. “I need you to be safe, so… yes.” 

Something changed as he said these words, her eyes lost their spark and she looked away from him. “Thank you for warning me,” she told him, taking a step back, “I’ll inform the guards and will make sure that…” 

Screams interrupted her words and before he knew what happened, she had picked up her skirts and sprinted back inside to see what was going on. 

“Princess!” he yelled. “Lily!” He followed her back inside and grabbed her waist, pulling her back against his chest. “Go back outside,” he told her, frantically. The once so colourful room had become a blur of colour as people ran from one side to the other, not knowing where to go and there – in the middle of the dance floor – his eyes found Regulus, holding the blade of his knife to Lady Black’s throat. His breath got stuck in his throat and for a moment the world stopped spinning, it had turned completely upside down.

Then there – out of nowhere – Sirius Black appeared, clapping his brother on the shoulder and the man then caught James’ eye, smirking wide and wiggling his eyebrows. 

Slowly, James let go off the princess . “You’re safe,” he said, “it’s okay.” 

She turned around, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face against his chest.

* * *

 

A few hours later, Lady Black and her husband had been locked up in the palace’s dungeons. Sirius and his brother had left the palace in favour of their own home and Lily and James stood outside, a respectable distance between them. 

“Does the offer still stand?” asked Lily. 

He frowned slightly. “Which offer?” he asked her and she smiled at him. 

“The offer to take me a million miles away?” 

James smiled back at her, moving a little closer and his fingers gently brushed her cheek. “Do you trust me?” he asked. 

She grinned and took his hand in hers. “Always.”


End file.
